The Reflection
by Rakkoon
Summary: This is the prequel to The Surface.


Hello everyone! So I'm finally back to write. It's been kind of difficult to process anything audience-worthy lately, so I'll try my best. This, my friends, will be a prequel of Gabriel and Charlotte's life BEFORE any of this stuff happened. I'm not sure how long it will be (or if it will ever get on the internet), but hopefully, everything will go smoothly…

**Prequel of The Surface. Book 0 of 3.**

_**The Reflection**_

1: Feather

* * *

Mrs. Deatly stood behind me, her arms reaching around to adjust the midnight blue fabric draped over me. The dress would do nicely for the occasion. I could see the grin of satisfaction creeping into her expression.  
My pale skin looked like the moon, wading in a pool of night sky. I was almost afraid to touch the silky surface, thinking I might disrupt the illusion.

"Either this dressing room has amazing lighting, or, you are prettier than your sister," she commented. "Definitely a daughter I'm proud of. And look how your blue eyes stand out!"  
"But would Oliver like it on me?" I asked, my partner coming to mind.  
Mother smirked, as if this was out of the question. "Oliver's jaw is going to drop, and no such thoughts will enter his mind. Come on, get undressed. As long as you like this one, we're getting it."  
I was relieved to get back into my jeans. Dresses weren't really one of absolute favorites in the clothing department. Of course, shopping altogether wasn't always so attractive. I'd much rather be reading or hanging out with Gabe.

Gabriel Alexander Finch has been my best friend since childhood. I must say, at this point in life, I'm glad I have him. To always know someone in school, even as we grew, was a great assurance. But lately, something's been different about him, and I don't approve of it. He's gotten sick a lot of time this past year, so maybe that's got something to do with the strange behavior.

"Are you coming Charlotte? We have to get going. I've got a session with Gabriel this afternoon," mom called out.  
I emerged, carrying the dress carefully in my arms. Mom took it and placed it on the counter. The cashier started to ring it up.  
"He's got another pain in the left shoulder," mom explained. "Thought I'd go down and give him a little massage, do you want to come with me?" Mrs. Deatly worked at the rehabilitation center, as a chiropractor. When I said Gabe was off lately, I meant in this area, as well as emotionally.  
"They still don't know what's wrong?"  
Mom shook her head. The cashier handed over a long bag, and I accepted it and folded it over my arm.  
"So are you coming with me?"  
"Yeah. I'll go with you."

* * *

His blond head poked out over the rim of the couch. Click, click, he changed the channel. I closed the door behind me, and he looked up.  
"Char?"  
I hadn't heard that voice in a while. He got up from the couch—flinching as he walked—and gave me a hug. He grunted when moving his left arm around. Holding me at arm's length, his gaze swept over me, a smile at his lips. "Pick out your prom dress yet?" he asked. I only nodded, and mom dragged him back over to the couch, beginning work on his shoulder blade. She inquired as to his pain locations, probing the tender area around the jutting bone.

"Yeah," Gabe winced. "But it feels like more than a muscle bruise."  
My eye brows twisted. "And you don't remember doing anything particularly straining in the day? Have you ever slept walked?"  
"I was thinking that might be it," Gabe answered. "Every morning my room is more a wreck than it was, and there are…feathers."  
"Down? You tear a pillow apart?"

He went silent, shaking his head. Gabe's eyes found mine again. "How's Oliver treating you?"  
Just like him to switch the subject from him, to me. "Good. He's nice," I replied shortly. "Not really my type though, if you understand."  
Gabriel's eye brows shot up. "You've got a certain type you like?" He sounded wary. "When I suggested you to him, he seemed excited enough."  
"Still…"  
A suspicious spark ignited in both my mother's eye and Gabriel's.  
"No! No, you don't understand. He's just…" I paused, trying to discover the right word for Oliver. "Boring."  
Gabe laughed. "Okay well, you can tell me about that later." His face grew more interested, "Right now, you have to tell me about your new friend, Cole Crandall."  
My lips glued shut. Hesitation leapt across my face, Gabe caught the gist of my feelings, but waited.

Cole Crandall, new acquaintance. First of all, the reason why we met wasn't at all planned. I had accidentally bumped into him at school. Standing dumbfounded, I watched him as he picked up his things. He had coldly regarded me after that, until yesterday. You can only imagine how shocked I was when he approached me, holding a slip of paper. Smiling pleasantly, he had handed over a ticket to the prom. _"I found this in my book last night. I thought it must have been yours from when we collided." _Indeed it had been mine. Oliver had bought me that ticket earlier that day, for the dance. Cole kept standing there though, grinning. I thanked him, expecting him to retreat hastily. But then, surprising me once again, he asked me if I could help him with something in return.

"What did he ask you to do?" Gabriel asked after I filled them in.  
I made a face. "Cole had somehow found out that I played this one videogame, and wondered if I might help him with it."  
"What game?" Gabe now sounded angry.  
"Kingdom Hearts."  
Gabe glanced up at my mom. She gave him a concerned response, continuing to rub his shoulder. "Are you going over to his house to help him with it?"  
"I invited him over to my house instead, for supper."  
"Can I come over too?"  
"Sure."  
"I don't trust him," he said in a hushed voice, sending shivers down my spine.

At the moment, my life didn't exactly seem real, and later I found out why. Cole didn't want to be my friend.

* * *

Okay, I know it's boring, but if I'm being honest, this is all that came to me. How is a prequel supposed to be exciting anyway? Heh, that will change, I promise.


End file.
